Railroad Earth
Elko

Railroad Earth’s debut (The Black Bear Sessions) may have begun its
life as a demo, but when completed, it served as a remarkably well-crafted
outing that was full of vim, vigor, and old-fashioned charm. With the release of
its uneven third effort The Good Life in 2004, however, the group seemed
to be struggling with making the transition into the next phase of its career.
Faced with similar circumstances, most ensembles take stock of where they have
been by issuing some sort of retrospective package with the hope that in
reconnecting with their past, they will cure whatever is ailing them. Rarely, do
they succeed — at least not nearly as well as Railroad Earth has with its latest
project Elko.

Whether by circumstance or intent, Elko’s opening track Long Way to
Go blatantly acknowledges Railroad Earth’s recent travails, and placing all
of its cards on the table so early in the game effectively lifts the burden that
had been weighing so heavily upon the ensemble. Hardly content simply to
regurgitate its material, Railroad Earth uses Elko to fully re-imagine
some of the finest songs in its canon (as well as several tunes from Todd
Sheaffer’s days with From Good Homes) by pushing them far beyond their original
incarnations. In the process, it succeeds in rediscovering the adventurous
spirit as well as the Grateful Dead-meets-Old & in the Way magic that propelled
its initial forays.

Nearly half of the 12 tracks contained on Elko stretch beyond the
10-minute mark, and while this initially might be daunting to newcomers, closer
inspection reveals that from its old material, Railroad Earth has sculpted
something that is fresh, exciting, and new. There’s a undeniable sense of
urgency to its performance, and throughout the set, the group dashes through so
many ideas that its music barely can contain them. It boldly navigates the
thrilling scenery of Colorado; it gently cushions the beautiful, bucolic
refrains of Railroad Earth; it drifts among the swirling currents of The Mighty River; and it inventively transforms Like a Buddha into a
whirling, freeform dance. Elsewhere, the ensemble’s tumbling instrumental
interplay keeps Head’s spirited, cosmic flight aloft; while Warhead
Boogie’s relevant ruminations are ably supported by the driving beat, sharp
edges, and dark shadows that are attributed to it by the band.

Considering the woeful state of "jam-band nation," it’s not surprising that
Railroad Earth has been trying to distance itself from the scene by categorizing
its endeavors as those from an "amplified string band with drums." What
separates the group from many of its peers, however, isn’t the instrumentation
it employs to deliver its material. The difference lies within Railroad Earth’s
very essence. First and foremost, the ensemble actually has songs with which to
work, and when it jams, it does so solely to give them color and texture, which
inevitably brings them to life. In other words, eclectic improvisation combined
with lyrical narrative is Railroad Earth’s heart and soul. It also is what makes
Elko such a stellar collection. ˝